


The Friendly Whale

by Cumbermarvel (UglyJackal)



Series: Trans Stephen [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Stephen Strange, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyJackal/pseuds/Cumbermarvel
Summary: The dysphoria weights down on Stephen.





	The Friendly Whale

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by aprettystrangeblog’s tumblr post: https://aprettystrangeblog.tumblr.com/post/175014446104/good-afternoon-i-love-your-writing-and-your-trans

He was going to shatter. He stood in front of his boyfriend, but not really there at all, and stared helplessly into those oak-brown eyes. He was a million pieces ready to break at a gentle puff of air, only holding on by a thread. He felt nothing and everything all at the same time; a deafening roar of emptiness followed by the echo of hurt and fear. 

 Dormammu was raging in his head.

‘Not worthy.’

‘Your binder can never flatten what you really are.’

‘The injections can’t give you everything.’

‘Stain. Dirty stain.’

‘If you killed yourself, the world would thank you for it.’

‘It wouldn’t take much. Just a small incision. You know how to stop a heartbeat, Doctor.’

He clutched at his hair. ‘Fuck off, Dormammu!’ he screamed, knees buckling.

Tony rushed to his side in an instant. He knelt in his line of sight, not touching in case it elicited an enraged response, but instead he murmured sweet nothings to him. ‘It’s alright, you’re okay.’

Stephen was panting hard, and it wasn’t due to the pressure on his ribs from his binder. His greatest weakness was his mind; it would creep up on him, whisper sour nothings into his ears, upset him. And he couldn’t control it. In his darkest hours, when it was too much, he had nearly sunk to the bottom of the ocean, dragged under by the seaweed that grabbed at his ankles and took him to meet sharks and stingrays. But something had always made the seaweed break; a friendly whale would come along and take him in its mouth and back up to the surface, where he would suck in glorious air. But the seaweed always grew back.

Tony found Stephen’s headphones and plugged them into the doctor’s ears gently. He scrolled through the other’s phone until he found the song that he knew could bring his Stephen back from the murky depths.

When the dysphoria became too much, when it hurt so bad that he found it difficult to breath, when there was a weight on his chest that was not as comforting as that of his binder, he would find his anthem. He would play “I’ll Make A Man Out Of You” from Mulan as loud as he could. He would dance, he would train to that song, treating the fighting like a Broadway performance. It would validate him, ground him, keep him from stepping over that edge.

Within moments, as the song hit its chorus, Stephen found that his breath was returning. His body was threading itself back together, the million pieces joining back into a handful. He returned to himself and looked up at Tony, taking hold of his hands as that final touch to ground him, to keep him above the surface.

‘Thank you,’ he mouthed to his boyfriend.

Tony smiled and leaned forward to kiss Stephen on the forehead. ‘Any time,’ he replied.

They sat there on the couch in Stark Tower together. Stephen rested his head onto Tony’s shoulder and soon fell asleep, the song still echoing in his ears. Tony reached for Stephen’s phone and turned the volume down so that none of the various loud songs woke his boyfriend up from the slumber that he so desperately needed.

Thankfully, Tony, who was so often the friendly whale that dragged Stephen from the depths, had been able to do so once again, when the dysphoria had gotten too much

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone quite late at night when I lost the previous work that I had written for this prompt, which explains why it’s so short.


End file.
